


The Progression of Sex

by therecognitionscene



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Discovery of sex, M/M, Twincest, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therecognitionscene/pseuds/therecognitionscene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Moriarty has a long and not so complicated relationship with sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Progression of Sex

Jim Moriarty first found sex when he was seven years old.

He was snooping around in his parent's room, in his father's bedside table, to be exact. He was short on pocket change and the man refused to spoil his boys by indulging them in coins whenever they asked. Well, Jim wasn't having any of that, and he pulled open the top drawer with the thought of buying himself a new pocketknife (he'd been saving for months, ever since he had ruined his old one on a neighborhood cat).

There were no coins to be seen, though, and with an impatient little noise, Jim began digging through the contents of the drawer, hoping to find some laying at the bottom. He picked up the stack of papers in his way, dropping them unceremoniously on the floor, only to come face to face with a magazine.

The front cover was a red background with a pretty woman on it dressed only in her underwear. Jim thought it weird, tossed it down next to the papers as well, and kept looking. He finally managed to uncover a couple coins underneath his father's Bible-- and even at that young age, Jim could appreciate the irony-- and he pocketed them before gathering up the discarded items from the floor. The magazine gave him pause again, though, as he was getting ready to tuck it back into the bottom of the drawer. What was so wonderful about a lady in her undies that she got to be on the cover of a magazine?

Jim sat himself on the edge of the bed and flipped open the magazine. Something about it seemed forbidden, but he didn't feel guilty or nervous as he gazed down at the glossy images, just curious.

The pages contained pictures of naked women. Some were spread out on beds, touching their privates with weird looks on their faces. Others were with men, on their knees with their painted lips wrapped around penises, or bent against a wall with the man behind them with even weirder expressions. At first glance Jim thought them in pain, but after he stared at a woman with her leg pushed back to her shoulder and a man's face between her thighs, he realized that their faces were contorted with pleasure.

He flipped through the pages for a few more moments with growing disinterest. Each picture was virtually the same, with only slight variations in positioning or state of dress. The sparse text gave crude descriptions of the action in the photos, colored with dirty words he'd only started to hear on the playground: pussy, cock, ass, cum, tits, fuck. 

When he finally tucked the magazine back into the drawer, he was disappointed and angry. That magazine was supposed to be for _pleasure_ , but he'd felt nothing from it, nothing from the dirty, fabricated depictions of what must be sex. Wasn't he supposed to feel something? The women in the pages-- the whores, that's what they were called-- they were enjoying it. So why wasn't he? He was young, yes, but he was a genius, intelligent beyond his years and more mature than he had the right to be. So what was wrong with him? The most he had felt had come from the images of the men holding their penises—cocks, with their free hands twisted in the long hair of a slut.

Maybe he just needed to be older, he thought later as he counted his money, safe back on his bed with the door to his and Richard's bedroom closed. He briefly considered asking his twin about sex, but he figured that his brother would know even less than he did; Richard was far more content with innocence and ignorance then Jim was. 

That night, he tried touching himself for the first time. He wrapped his hand around his penis like the men in the magazines had, but he wasn't quite sure what to do. He didn't feel anything, just the coolness of his palm and the frustration at his inability to understand what was so great about sex. Richard shifted on his own bed, and Jim froze. When his twin had settled back down, blankets scrunched around his feet-- he always tossed in his sleep-- Jim tugged his pajama bottoms back up and crept out of bed. 

He and Richard were identical, down to the last pale freckle on their chest, and they always took baths together. So nothing about his twin's body was new to him, but he still reached a hand out and ran a finger along Richard's clothed penis. Rich let out a small sigh at the touch, Jim's eyes locked on his brother's face, but then Rich was rolling onto his stomach and Jim couldn't experiment anymore that night.

He crawled back into his own bed, annoyed and sleepy. He decided that for now, sex wasn't worth his time. Maybe he would try again when he was older. Maybe he could get Richard to try it too. 

But, for the moment, Jim Moriarty let sex alone. 

There were far more important things to worry about, anyways.


End file.
